Maestro of the Maze
Maestro of the Maze is the last encounter in the Melody of the Maze mission hub. It comes after Magical Barrier. Enemies *Sonorous Summoning Portal (1100 Gold, 120 Xp, 75 Energy, 5 HP Normal, 6 HP Hard) *Melodious Summoning Portal (1100 Gold, 120 Xp, 75 Energy, 5 HP Normal, 6 HP Hard) *Tuneful Summoning Portal (1100 Gold, 120 Xp, 75 Energy, 5 HP Normal, 6 HP Hard) *Medea (7000 Gold, 400 Xp, 300 Energy, 1 HP All) *Locked until all others are defeated.* Transcript Introduction Thick tendrils snake across the floor leading into the chamber, like the roots of a tree -- glowing with a throbbing purple light that seems to beckon you inside. When you step into the room you see that similar growths are spread across its entire floor space -- radiating from its central point in all directions as though they were the threads of a spider's web. In the middle of the room they rise into a small round platform that pulses with the same amethyst hues. The bard sits atop it, her fingers stroking the strings of her harp. After what you've already seen in this place, you suspected that you'd find her here. And yet you're taken aback all the same. For there's something different about her... Roland and Marcus matched the portraits in your family's castle perfectly. Those pictures were painted just after the war, and depicted them in their adventuring gear -- freezing them in time at the moment of the great triumph they shared with your ancestor. But the elf woman sitting before you is different. Her garments are similar in color and design to those she favored back then, but finer -- more elaborate than the adventurer's garb she once wore. And her face, though still beautiful with the enduring youth of elven blood, shows the vaguest hints of earned decades. "You're Medea." "Do you find it productive to blunder around informing people of their own identities?" A cutting blast of harp music accompanies the question. "I mean... You're her. Not an illusion. Not conjured up like everyone else in this damn place." "You have your ancestor's flair for stating the obvious. It's even less charming on you." Her fingers continue to dance across her harp strings as she speaks, playing an accompaniment to her words and silence alike. "Where are we? Who trapped us here?" "We're inside your mind. In a place woven within it by my song. And make no mistake, you're the only one who's trapped here." "But-" "Your body is lying within a house in Bluselle. You were severely injured in your battle with the orc warlord, and your companions cannot rouse you from your coma. They fear to use magic, lest it wreck your intellect or sanity." She pauses for a moment, though her harp continues -- murmuring a tune as the dreadful information sinks into your brain. "But my song can wake you." Relief washes through your body like a golden tide. "That's why you're here? Why you led me to the middle of this maze? So you could free me?" "No." Her expression, her voice, and her music become cold -- like shards of ice gathering to pierce your senses. The elven bard rises to her feet. "I conjured this place to test you. To see if you deserved to be saved. And I haven't yet made my decision." Your reeling mind gropes for words, but they slip away like minnows before a grasping hand. Medea was one of your ancestor's closest friends! The image of Faustus drifts before your mind's eye. Has she fallen too, succumbed to corruption? The startling thought is blasted from your mind as her fingers strike her harp strings, raising a tremendous wave of sound that seems to wash over the entire labyrinth. Pools of radiant light bloom from nothingness, as though drawn into being by the force of her music. Three glowing, seething masses of energy emerge into this simulacrum of reality, each one humming with its own primal music. Luminous eldritch swirls coil within their depths, as they did within the barrier that once sealed this chamber. Portals... Conclusion Brawl boss unlocked! Medea backs away -- her sword raised in one hand, the fingers of the other stroking her harp and evoking spiking chords of agony. She's breathing heavily. Her movements betray twinges of pain, though she shows no signs of being wounded -- none of your attacks succeeded in opening her flesh and spilling her blood as they should have done, though you sensed that she felt their force in full measure nonetheless. The three portals are gone, closed when you destroyed the last of their minions. Only you and the bard remain, standing atop the glowing tendrils. "You fight like he did," Medea says. "You Kasans have kept that tradition alive at least. You all know how to fight." "We've always striven to be worthy of him." The bard laughs -- a harsh, mocking laugh that turns her music into something almost savage. "Your family isn't fit to bear his name." You rush towards her, heedless of your predicament, casting aside the knowledge that your fate depends on her aid. Medea's hand crashes across her harp strings. A beautiful cacophony smashes into you, an avalanche of music in which the divine and the infernal vie for mastery. You fall to your hands and knees, your limbs robbed of their power. A scream tears from your mouth, but it's lost amidst the torrent of sound. Somehow you survive the sonic obliteration. When it passes the universe still exists around you, though your ears ring with the echoes of its destruction. "I'm going to ask you a question," the bard says. Her voice is soft, like a caress after the assault you've just endured. And yet each word, each subtle plucking of a string, hits you like a hammer's blow. "But first know this: I can read the truth or falsehood in the sound of a man's voice. And if you lie to me I'll sink your mind into an abyss so deep that no one will ever be able to retrieve it. You'll be trapped within the shackles of your brain while your powerless body surrenders to atrophy around it. Do you understand?" You nod. It's all you can manage. "Do you know why your family was exiled from West Kruna so many years ago?" Your mouth opens as you gaze up at her, but only a groan emerges. Medea rolls her eyes. She brushes her fingers across the strings of her harp, causing a gentle melody to drift out from it. The music flits around your throat like warm, stroking fingers. You can feel the strength returning to it, your voice recovering. "Answer me." "The Seluthas... The Seluthas made false accusations against us. They claimed we plotted treason." The bard's voice and instrument share a sigh. "That's what you were told?" "It's the truth! Their tale-bearers spread lies about us across the kingdom, to turn the people against us. But I promise you, my family was innocent." A smile flickers across her lips. "No, they weren't." You force yourself upright, swaying slightly as your legs tremble under you. "They lied to you," you say. "We-" "The Kasans despised the Seluthas. They couldn't bear the thought of bowing their knees to a monarch from that house. So they plotted to overthrow him." "No!" You stagger towards her. Medea's fingers flash across her harp. You flinch, expecting another agonizing torrent. But the tune it creates is gentle, pushing you back as tenderly as if the notes were the hands of urging maidens. "I know this because they told me. They came to me, calling upon the friendship I'd shared with your ancestor, and urged me to join them. I refused." "You're lying!" The words fly from your mouth out of instinct. But they sound hollow even to you. "Believe what you will. Perhaps the truth died with the plotters themselves, and they spared their descendants the shame of its knowledge. Or perhaps others among your family know it still. It no longer matters. I only had to be sure that you yourself were honorable." "If we betrayed the Seluthas, then..." "It makes no difference. Not now. The past cannot be undone. And King Crenus' deeds, his oppressions, are true enough. West Kruna chafes under his yoke, and I have no quarrel with those who wish to unseat him. But I'll have no part of your human squabbles. Remember that, and never come searching for me." "You mean you'll wake me? Return me to my body?" "I will. Though there's one other thing I must ask of you first. In time you'll meet someone, and he'll question you about your travels -- about everything you experienced since you arrived in West Kruna. It's important that you answer him truthfully in every other respect. But you mustn't tell him of our meeting here, and what I revealed to you. If you wish to share my words with your friends, those whose secrecy you can trust, so be it. I of all people understand the bonds between heroes and their companions. But he must never know." "I swear, I won't say anything which would put you in danger, but-" "It's not danger to me that I fear, but to history itself. If he knows... if he knew, and told him..." The bard's eyes become unfocussed for a moment. But it passes, and they fasten on yours once more. "But who will it be? Whom can't I tell?" "I cannot say. That knowledge might... It might be equally dangerous. Time is a curious thing, and I don't pretend to understand its machinations. But you'll know when you meet him. You'll never have met the likes of him before." "I-" Medea's harp trills, drowning out your words in a tune that makes reality tremble with its softness. The world ripples around you. Then it vanishes, disintegrating into a colorful mist that slips into oblivion -- leaving only darkness behind. *** It's the music that penetrates the darkness first. The enchanting call of a harp dances at the edges of your perception, a faint yet insistent tune that beckons as though from a great distance. It's so soft, so utterly alone in an infinity of quietness, that you expect it to be devoured by silence at any moment -- to slip away forever like a lost love. But somehow you know that it has to be thus. For the song isn't beckoning after all... It's wishing you farewell. The understanding of the song's purpose, the acceptance of its ephemeral nature, brings comfort, and your hearing relaxes -- relinquishes portions of perception to your other senses. That's when your mind begins to focus, to rise from the morass of semi-consciousness. "He's awake!" The voice is Tessa's. Her shout is followed by the din of rapid footsteps. Your eyes open. Her beautiful face looms over you, alongside Hugh's gleeful grin. "Knew you weren't going to be killed by a bloody orc." "Fate doesn't relinquish its chosen ones so easily," Brachus says. The grin becomes more elegant when the demon speaks, but no less beaming. "You had us worried, ," Tessa says. "Where am I?" "In my home," a woman's voice replies. The educated, well-bred accent is familiar. But it isn't until she too appears at your bedside that remembrance comes. She's the noblewoman you saw remonstrating with the orc warlord. "I feared that you'd given your life in the defense of our town. Is there anything I can-" She breaks off as you look away, your gaze traveling to the room's latticed window. Somewhere beyond its glass the distant music is slipping beyond the range of your senses. "That bard..." "One of the townspeople," Tessa says. "She was playing out there in the square for more than an hour." "The woman with the cowl?" the noblewoman asks. "She's not from Bluselle. I thought she came with you..." The music fades away at last, vanishing into the world. But the echoes it's left behind continue to dance across your mind. Category:Melody of the Maze